


Stand Tall

by Lunafeather



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Solas/Per'nah Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunafeather/pseuds/Lunafeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Per'nah Lavellan receives the news that her clan has been wiped out by the army at Wycome, and she struggles to deal with the feelings their deaths bring. Solas, as always, remains her rock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> My way of dealing with the lack of fallout if/when you receive bad news about your clan's fate in game.
> 
> This is a two part story.

Per’nah leaned casually against the war table, arms crossed and an easy smile painting her lips. Leliana and Josie were mercilessly teasing Cullen about a young new recruit who had taken a liking to her Commander; the girl had been following him around in her free time, asking seemingly endless questions about anything, from his past - of which he was disinclined to discuss with even the Inquisitor, let alone a starry eyed woman barely out of adolescence - to his musings on mythology and religion, to what he thought about the musings of crows. The Commander blushed and made feeble, halfhearted attempts at brushing off his companions’ teasing, despite the fact that the two women were always the first to hear of any new developments with the girl.

Cullen was mid-sentence in a story - regaling the women with an anecdote about the time the girl had situated herself across from him at dinner and somehow managed to spend the entire time staring at him from under her lashes, her cheeks rosy and flushed, her stew left untouched - when a soldier knocked and slowly entered the room. The young man’s eyes were wide and nervous, darting to Per’nah’s face before skirting away. He motioned to Cullen to join him in the corner of the room, away from the women; the three of them watched the pair of men, curious and confused, as the soldier murmured softly, gesturing slightly at the Inquisitor and avoiding Per’nah’s eyes over the Commander’s shoulder.

The soldier passed a scroll to his commanding officer and fled, looking distraught. Per’nah smirked until Cullen turned around - and then she froze. His face was drawn, sad, lips pulled down into a frown, brows pressed together. His eyes were soft but melancholy, and Per’nah’s heart dropped.

He cleared his throat, gesturing to her other advisers. “May I speak to you alone, Inquisitor?” His voice was steel, trying to not betray whatever knowledge he now had in his hand, whatever news the soldier had imparted.

Per’nah studied him, frowning, trying to fight a rising feeling of dread. She glanced at Leliana and Josephine; the Spymaster was studying Cullen intently, eyebrow arched, thinking, piecing clues only she could see together; the Ambassador looked from the elf to the Commander, lip pinched between her teeth.

“You can tell me in front of them, Cullen. We’re a team, remember?”

Conflict washed over his face even as his mouth dropped open to protest. But then his shoulders sank and he nodded, walking slowly back over to the war table. He stood a couple feet from her, close enough that she could smell the pleasant scent of his aftershave. She watched as he dug for the courage to say whatever he needed to, her nerves crackling and sparking, tension spreading through her shoulders. Just when she opened her mouth to demand what was wrong, he finally stuttered out, “Inqui - Per’nah… We have word from the soldiers sent to Wycome.”

The sorrow laced in his voice made her sick to her stomach. Still, she tried to shove the feeling of panic away, smiling slightly in encouragement - though it felt, and looked, forced. “I…yes? What did they say?”

Cullen looked to his friends, floundering. He wasn’t used to doing this. Out of the corner of her eye, Per’nah could see Josie twisting her hands together in agitation, could see the stiff line of Leliana’s posture. When Cullen looked back, he was resigned.

“They marched on the city, but the army there retaliated. Our men were forced to retreat… I… your clan… Wycome’s army attacked them in our stead.” Per’nah’s blood ran cold. She could hear Cullen’s voice, could understand the words, but it was like she was a thousand miles away, barely able to recognize what he was trying to say. Her body went still as if petrified, and she stared helplessly at the Commander as he mournfully informed her, “They’re gone, Per’nah. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. They’ve all died.”

Silence washed over the room. Per’nah couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Her clan… her family… they couldn’t be gone. Not just like that, not with a few words and a slip of parchment. This was wrong, her clan was too strong, too good to be  _gone_. There had to be a mistake.

But she knew there wasn’t. She knew from the shadow crossing Cullen’s face, from the way Josie’s eyes closed as her hands went to her mouth, from Leliana’s sharp but steadfast gaze.

She stiffly held her hand out for the roll of parchment bearing the brutal results of their mission. Cullen hesitated, mouth falling open, his eyes worried, but then he placed it delicately in her open palm. She finally broke their locked gaze, looking down at the paper in her fist, feeling nothing and everything all at once. She wanted to squeeze it into nothingness in her hand, wanted to chuck it across the room, shred it to pieces and scatter the bits.

But she didn’t do any of that. She  _couldn’t_. Her body refused to obey the emotional impulse.

“Per’nah…” Cullen had inched closer. She could feel the worry rolling off of him in heady waves, sensed his quiet strength. If she went into his arms at that moment, he would hold her without a second thought. He offered her comfort and a shoulder to cry on. She was tempted, too, to take him up on it. But then his aftershave washed over her, the smell of oakmoss and elderflower permeating her senses, and it was too much. Suddenly she couldn’t stand there a second longer, overwhelmed with emotion and terrified of her advisers seeing her lose control.

She fought the prick of tears in the corners of her eyes, clenched the parchment between her fist in her attempt to stave off the waterworks. She smiled painfully at the Commander, even as her vision swam. “I’m… fine. I’m fine. Please, don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright. I just… I need to…”

Words wouldn’t come, and the panic was threatening to suffocate her. She waved dismissively at her friends and fled, ignoring Cullen’s  _wait_  and Josie’s startled gasp and Leliana’s  _Per’nah!_

She didn’t see the halls of Skyhold as she strode away from the war room and then through secret doorways and into back tunnels. In her mind, she saw her Keeper’s face, saw the young, excited faces of her apprentice archers. Heard Havea’s exalted laugh as she let loose a long shot that hit its mark perfectly, felt Nooma’s shoulders shaking as the girl wept in her arms, heart broken by a clanmate. Or were those her own shoulders trembling…? She wouldn’t have been able to say.

Seconds - minutes? hours? - later, her vision finally cleared enough to see that she had absentmindedly gravitated to the rotunda, to Solas. She had no idea how she got there.

 _Vhenan…_  Her heart was breaking, but she  _couldn’t_  let anyone see, who could possibly understand…? Who would respect her if she fell apart, collapsing into a blubbering mess? She had an image to uphold! She had people to inspire!

She opened her mouth, almost called his name, then changed her mind. But she hesitated, and in that second, Solas must have heard her or sensed her, for he turned from his position leaning over his desk.

“Vhenan! I am pleased to see you, are you…”  He trailed off, noticing her face and the wetness on her cheeks. She had started to back away, to retreat, terrified of letting someone,  _anyone_ , see her like this. But Solas was inches away in a mere heartbeat, palms cupping her jaw, his eyes wide with compassion. “Emma lath, what troubles you? Has something happened?”

She could tell he was startled. She hardly ever allowed such emotion to be so openly displayed; he was the only person who had ever witnessed it, and only ever in absolute privacy. His thumbs idly stroked away her tears, tender and comforting. The mounting despair inside of her broke, then, overcome by such a powerful feeling of love for the man before her that she was awed by it. He allowed her time to lift her eyes whenever she was ready to. When she finally did, he seemed to recognize the helplessness there.

“Come, vhenan _._  Let us talk away from prying eyes and snooping ears.” He brushed a kiss against her forehead before taking her hand and quietly leading her out of the rotunda and up to her quarters. He ignored the murmuring of the nobles, while Per’nah obediently followed; the emotion had ebbed now, leaving emptiness in its wake.

Solas led her to her bed and sat her on the edge, removed the roll of parchment from her fist, then went about undressing her with gentle hands. Cotton whispered against her skin as her shirt was lifted over her head, cool air lapping at her exposed skin. He nudged her, directing her to lay down, then popped the buttons of her trousers open so he could remove them as well.

Per’nah stared mindlessly up at the vaulted ceiling, her body like putty beneath well versed fingers. Her thoughts remained blank, a familiar defense mechanism. Even as she heard the wind whistling through the mountains and into open windows, even as she inhaled the soft scent of her lover beside her, no thoughts came; these things were simply coldly observed, clinical in their appraisal.

Warm fingers prodding at her back where it met the bed pulled her gaze to Solas’. He lifted her slightly to tug the blanket down, meticulously moving each limb to free the linen until he could drape it over her. He scooted closer, and it was then that she noticed the truly pained look in his eyes; he could sense the walls she had thrown up around her psyche, and it only seemed to worry him further.

“Vhenan…”

The fractured rumble of his voice threatened to demolish the careful defenses she had built. She couldn’t collapse, she couldn’t. She had to be strong, to stand tall.

_Always stand tall, da’len. Our people have been forced to bow, to break, for millenia. We will no longer. Rosas soun._

She screwed her eyes shut. Deshanna was gone, she was gone and Per’nah could no longer find the strength to stand tall. She was alone, she was so alone…

Solas’ forehead touched hers. Cool fingers scrambled for purchase against his tunic, twisting around his jawbone necklace to pull him down against her. He carefully tugged it from her grasp, removing it and then his tunic before sliding into the bed next to her. His arms held her firmly against his chest as she rolled onto her stomach, half on top of him, her nose pressed into the dip between his collarbones.

She wasn’t alone. She had Solas. There was no one here to see her snap except Solas. Her love, her eternity.

A small whimper puffed from her lips as one of his hands soothingly rubbed up her spine, something he had long ago learned comforted her.

She couldn’t hold it back any more.

With a strangled gasp, the emotion slammed into her. Sobs wracked her body, taut muscles stiffening and then trembling as she choked out each breath. She felt rather than heard Solas’ soft coos, and briefly, wildly, she wondered at the back of her mind if he was even aware he was making them.

“They’re dead, Solas… They’re dead. All of them. The soldiers…they slaughtered them. I didn’t… we couldn’t…”

Each word was torn from her, her mind struggling to accept them as real even as it knew they were. Solas’ arm held her tighter, his fingers stroking more firmly. Otherwise, he remained silent, letting her work through her explosive grief. She rambled on incoherently, brokenly telling him of the events that transpired, the reason for her heartbreak. Sadness melded into anger, into rage and then hatred, which cooled into numb acceptance.

When her breathing began evening out and the tear tracks across her cheeks began to dry, she couldn’t have said how much time had passed; all she knew was that her body was exhausted, limbs like lead, head buzzing. Solas peppered kisses against the top of her head, fingers still dutifully massaging her back.

“Sleep, vhenan. You have had a very long evening.”

Per’nah didn’t even have a chance to object before she nodded off, wrapped in Solas’ embrace, feeling safe and calm after unleashing the whirlwind of emotion pent up inside her.


	2. The Gift of Memories

Warm rays of sunlight splashed against her cheeks, drawing her slowly out of her slumber. A cool breeze tickled her arms, ruffled and weaved through her hair. She listened to the melody of tree branches swishing and the tinkle of the brook a few feet away before her eyes fluttered open. A sparse canopy of vibrant green leaves swayed far above her, golden light spilling through the cracks and gaps and washing over her sprawling body. Heavy contentment blanketed her, and she was unsurprised to find her body refusing to move, even as she commanded it to.

A shout sounded somewhere to her left, followed by the laughter of a small group. Per’nah sighed deeply and sat up. Break time must be over, and her students were waiting.

She stretched languidly, a hum spilling from her lips at the sweet pull of her muscles. It took a great force of will to climb to her feet and sling her pack, bow, and quiver over her shoulder. The weather in the Marches had been particularly nasty that summer… she wondered if they would be blessed with another tepid day like this.

“Hahren!” Havea sprinted over as Per’nah waded through a patch of tall needle grass. The girl giggled and reached to pluck a dead leaf from her teacher’s hair. “Did you have a good nap, hahren? I tried to keep the others quiet, but Vizania wouldn’t shut up.” She rolled her eyes and shot a glare at one of the other apprentices.

“Yes, da’len, I rested well.” Per’nah smiled affectionately at the girl, touching her arm as they moved toward the group. “Alright, ga’lin. Let’s continue our long range exercises. I found a more open field for us to practice in. Collect your gear and follow me, please. Stay together. The area is safe, but let’s not take any chances, hmm?”

They hiked together up gently sloping hills, over the crest of a small mesa, and down into a shallow valley where an open plain lay nestled between short walls of granite. Knee-high, cornfield yellow grass swayed as the wind picked up, the flora shimmering and flowing like the waves of the ocean. The clearing was circular in shape, the edges hemmed by thick oak trees. Three trees on the opposite side of the vast open space were each marked with bright red clay in the shape of a bulls eye.

Per’nah led the small party along the perimeter of the grass until they were half way between the targets and the path back to their camp. She dropped her bag into the dirt and motioned toward the trees. “I felt that today held a certain air of competition. We will be shooting long range at those marks, at lengthening distances. You will all have 10 chances to make 3 shots in each round. Those who make their shots advance to the next distance. Last one standing will be accompanying the scouts on our next excursion.”

The elves around her reacted loudly, surprised and excited, hooting and hollering at the prize dangled before them. There were seven total this season; some had been her students for a few years, others had earned their vallaslin only a year or two ago, while one had been granted the privilege of starting the specialized training before she was of age. Per’nah winked at bare faced Havea, who blushed and grinned.

The girl was tall and spindly, much like Per’nah had been at her age. She braided long tawny hair back into a plait pulled over her left shoulder, out of the way of her drawing arm. Pale skin barely showed beneath a heavy smattering of golden freckles, the spots more concentrated along high cheekbones and around emerald eyes.

She was due to receive her vallaslin in the coming weeks. She had been accepted into the scout training at the start of the spring after showing incredible promise, though she still struggled at times with certain skills. Long range shooting did not come easily to her, nor did patience. But she was determined and passionate, careful and intensely observant. It also helped that she was one of their fastest archers.

“Athaan sar'linen! Dashi, Lutharen, Nott - you’re first.” She showed them where to stand, correcting stance and posture where needed, murmuring words of encouragement at nervous expressions.

“Ready?” A nod from each. “You may begin!”

All seven progressed to the second round. Dashi and Freya giggled and gestured to one another as the former stood increasingly closer to well muscled Lutharen and thus made only two of her ten shots; she shrugged sheepishly as the others moved to their positions for the third round. This round saw cocky Vizania disqualified, as well as Toch, who conceded that he would never be a long distance archer - his skills lay in tracking and mapping. The fourth round lost Lutharen and Freya.

Standing at the starting point for round five, Havea clutched desperately at her bow, warily eyeing the targets. Nott knelt a few feet away from her, fixing his leggings and pointedly ignoring her. He was Per’nah’s oldest student, having studied with her for quite a few years. He had not yet excelled at enough of the skills needed to be granted the title of scout, instead choosing to pour his focus into one skill only, to master it – and that skill was sniping. His quiet introversion unnerved many of their clanmates; Per’nah ignored the whispers and rumors, and taught him what she could.

She knew going into this competition that he would likely win - a calculated move on her part. He was ready to be accepted into the scouts’ ranks; this was his unofficial test.

Havea, however, was a surprise.

“You’ve been practicing, da’len,” the older woman said softly.

Havea smiled shyly, glancing at her feet. “The others… sometimes they still act like I shouldn’t be here. But I’m getting my vallaslin in two weeks time. I know I’m technically still a kid, but I’m here for a reason. And I just… wanted to be worthy of my place.”

“You are, lethallan. I am very proud of you.”

Havea blushed furiously. “Thank you, hahren. I… thank you.”

Per’nah moved toward her other student. “Nott, are you ready?”

He stood and drew his bow, nodding solemnly.

“And you, Havea?”

“Yes, hahren.”

“Enaan.”

Havea nocked an arrow and froze. Slender fingers trembled with the effort to aim, squeezed the handle of her bow until her arm sang with tension. Per’nah watched as the girl’s brow furrowed in forced concentration, could easily see how much hope clung to the thin wood as Havea finally -  _finally_ , after a long, breathless moment - let her arrow fly.

It fell with a silent thump well short of it’s intended target.

She nocked another, held this one not quite as long - it whistled past the trees, ten feet wide of its mark.

Another - the wood screeched as she roughly tugged it back, the body of the arrow scraping against its rest before surging forward - it sailed into the forest canopy. Frustration warred with annoyance on Havea’s youthful face, making her appear all the more child-like. Per’nah half expected her to stomp her foot.

Meanwhile, ever patient Nott loosed an arrow. It hit its mark dead center.

Havea huffed in irritation, but she wasn’t the type to easily admit defeat. She nocked another arrow.

“Da’len, take a breath.” Per’nah approached her, tapping her shoulder, urging her to lower it slightly. “Do not forget how the air cradles your arrows. The wind teases them, the earth calls to them, so you must adjust. Don’t let impatience erase your lessons.”

Nott missed next to her, his arrow impaling the tree just outside of its bulls eye.

Per’nah lifted her chin to gesture to him. “Do you see how Nott approaches failure? A lesson. Failure can be an excellent teacher, if you listen closely.” She stepped away again so as to observe.

Havea readied another arrow, sighing out her breath as she released it. It missed - but only barely, clipping the side of the tree.

“Ir’on, da’len. Relax your neck. Focus. Breathe. Again.”

The girl lined up another shot. She relaxed her neck, letting the tension seep out. Her eyes pinpointed her arrow’s destination. She lifted her bow just slightly, aiming. A sigh of breath, a veil of calm settling over her. Then she let the arrow fly.

The sound of splintering wood echoed across the clearing. Havea bit her lip, not daring to hope. “Was that you?” She said to Nott. “Or did I…?”

Freya cried,”You did it! You hit the mark! Dead on!”

Havea almost dropped her bow. “What?” Shielding her eyes from the sun, she saw it - her arrow embedded in the middle of the target. She shrieked, jumping excitedly and flailing her free arm in the direction of her success. “Per’nah! I did it! I made it! A long shot!”

“Well done, lethallan.” Per’nah felt pride surge through her. Nothing fulfilled her quite the same way as her students succeeding. “Now… Enas’sal.”

Havea grinned, lifting her bow and preparing another arrow for its assault. Per’nah watched how her ward’s body seemed lighter, her posture open and relaxed. She barked out a loud, joyous laugh as she released, her arrow soaring and then striking perfectly within the bulls eye for a second time.

Her fellow apprentices cheered, openly surprised yet pleased for their clanmate.

She was too excited though, high off of her triumph, and her impatience spiked. Her next arrow embedded itself at the base of the tree.

“Fenhedis,” she muttered.

Per’nah arched an eyebrow, dark skin stretching around a wide smile. “Don’t give up now.”

Nott had four arrows left when he advanced to the next round; Havea missed her last four, though each landed in close proximity to their target. Disappointment etched itself in rounded features, but the girl did her best to school her emotions, to lose respectfully. Per’nah announced Nott as the winner; the others begrudgingly congratulated him as the group began its return journey to camp for dinner.

Nott hung at the back as usual, quiet and introspective. Per’nah watched out of the corner of her eye as Havea slowed to stride beside him. The older woman couldn’t quite make out the exact words of their conversation, but she watched as Havea smiled shyly, motioning to Nott’s bow, and grinned as Nott shrugged and murmured something that set Havea’s face ablaze with a fierce blush. The two remained by each other’s sides for the rest of the evening.

When they arrived back at camp, the other scouts crowed and shrieked as Per’nah informed them of the day’s events. They invited Nott to sit among them, folding him into their ranks. The young man sat on the edge of their circle so that Havea could eat beside him.

They regaled their newest - yet still unofficial - member with exceedingly exaggerated tales of their exploits, passing a wine pouch around the fire. Toronn told an epic tale of loss and rescue, an adventure in which Per’nah single-handedly carried three of their heaviest men back to their base camp in the wilds after the men had fallen down into a ravine. They failed to explain how she had gotten them back up the cliffs, but no one paid that any mind.

As the evening wore on, Deshanna pulled Per’nah aside, her own weathered cheeks rosy with drink, her dark eyes glimmering in the firelight.

“Lethallan, I hear that the day’s passing has brought you a new scout.”

Per’nah smiled serenely as she watched her fellow scouts roaring boisterously at a story, as her apprentices bowed their heads together over their maps. The other members of Clan Lavellan ate and sang and talked and danced around the pair of women.

Per’nah turned to nod to her Keeper. “Yes, hahren. He will make an excellent addition to our team. I see much prosperity in our clan’s future.”

Deshanna cupped the younger woman’s cheek in her wrinkled palm, swiping her thumb against her chin and the vallaslin painted there. “I still remember the day you joined us, after the Arlathvhen all those years ago. Such a sad time when we lost Bah’nui. None thought that any could replace her as master archer.” Deshanna’s hands moved to Per’nah’s shoulders. “I could not be happier that that replacement was you, lethallan.”

The words left Per’nah speechless. She felt a blush spread over her face and up her ears, inordinately pleased by Deshanna’s sentiments. “I…ma serannas, hahren.” The bloom of joy in her chest sent warmth tingling through her body.

The keeper gently squeezed her shoulders, then wandered off. Per’nah watched her go, happiness settling like a blanket around her.

A twig snapped behind her. She spun, fingers finding the dagger at her hip. Solas stepped out from behind a tree, his palm pressed against the rough bark.

“Solas…?” Her brow furrowed. Solas… he shouldn’t be here. They were in the Free Marches, with her clan. He was… She twisted back toward her clan’s camp, only to see everything begin to warp and ripple. “The fade…”

Solas’ fingers touched her hip. When she turned to face him again, his hands cradled her face, warm and tangible. “Ir abelas, vhenan. It is nearly time to wake." He paused, watching her closely. Then he said, "We are in a memory.”

Her heart sank as she nodded. She understood that now.

“I slept beside you, and found you in the fade. I thought that perhaps it would help you heal to see your clan once more, to engage with them in more pleasant times.”

The rawness of her grief still gnawed at her, but she felt…at peace, at least for the moment. Even though they were gone now… she still had her memories of them, memories that she could visit any time she wanted to, any time she needed to.

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, freely spilling down her cheeks. Solas’ face shifted into an expression of alarm, afraid he had done something to make it worse, but she smiled up at him. Her palms covered the backs of his hands on her face.

“Ma serannas, emma lath. This is a beautiful gift.” Her fingers went to his sides, twisting into the soft fabric there to pull him against her. She stood on her toes until she could feel his heart beating against hers and his arms dropped to wrap around her waist. Their faces hovered inches apart. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. You mean the world to me. I will forever be grateful that I was blessed with you in my life.” She kissed him before he could respond, pouring her feelings into the press of her lips, the brush of her tongue against his own.

She would make it through this.

She would stand tall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find my blog @ lunafeather.tumblr.com <3
> 
> The title of “Master Archer” in my personal canon is one that is given to an Archer who not only excels above most (though not necessarily all) others at archery, but also knows how to utilize said skills to lead and teach others. She fulfills the role of teacher to apprentices who want to better learn archery, as well as join the elite team of scouts (who have the responsibility of finding safe places for the clan to move to, as well as tracking other clans/humans/packs of beasts in the area and updating maps the Clan carries. Some scouts also lead excursions to find local ruins and haunts where more information about Elvhenan can be found). She also helps lead the scouts, though that in itself is a joint effort.


End file.
